The irony doesn’t escape me.
Sometimes, Chris and I can take time away alone in Florida, when Shae is busy in DC with her Senate work. One of the things I love about our girl is that she isn’t…needy. She honestly doesn’t mind time alone. I suppose her widowed mother taught her many valuable lessons growing up, and enjoyingsolitary time, especially ahead of a busy political season, is one of them.
As time permits, Leo and Chris work with me on teaching me certain skills, like how to do the arm lock move Chris is so fond of using on me, how to apply pressure points to immobilize or cause pain, and I find I enjoy using these kinds of hands-on techniques on Shae. No implements needed besides my own hands, making logisticseasier and not requiring I pack implements that can end up costing us a news story if the wrong TSA agent decides to screen our bags.
She’s enjoying my new skills, too.
It means I’m stepping forward in ways to keep her happy, but now she’s the one frequently left awaiting my morning return to her home, smelling and tasting like Chris, when it’s not possible for all three of us to have time togetherwithout raising suspicions. It also means I lose out on some thingsIneed, like my time with the sadist. It’s a trade-off I don’t mind, though, because I keep the big picture in mind—Shae’s poll numbers are consistent and improving by the week, holding steady in ways I never imagined. We hit Fullmer hard at every turn, even while Shae makes news and earns grudging praise from conservative newsoutlets for her ability to work in a bipartisan fashion to get shit done.
I discover within myself a cutthroat political operative I never knew existed.
I ignore my father’s calls, which nearly always coincide with a PR victory for Shae, because I might be a masochist but I’m notthatkind of masochist.
Besides, he never leaves a voice mail. I’m not going to dignify his impotent rage with anykind of response.
We’re not under official Secret Service protection yet, but Leo and Chris coordinate to hire security for us when we have to travel. Leo also holds a concealed carry permit, a special one that retired federal law enforcement get to use, so there is that extra level of protection.
With my life now crazy, Lauren and I rarely get to see each other, although we text frequently.My time in DC is spent putting out fires at campaign headquarters, or with Chris and Shae. Throughout summer, as we make the rounds of Iowa, courting voters for the ever-important caucus next spring, it strikes me that I don’t miss being on TV as a journalist. Our campaign’s communications director is great at crafting a message, and is a kick-ass speech writer, but he’s not comfortable going onTV. Therefore, I frequently end up being the “face” of the campaign, which I obviously don’t mind.
I speak with Benchley Evans on a regular basis, and the man is invaluable helping me craft an approach to start winning over conservative rural voters who are being harmed by many of Fullmer’s economic policies, but who are also eager to find another candidate to support. Polls swing Shae’s way,meaning we work even harder.
I actuallylikethis new life of mine.
It’s far more satisfying than I ever imagined it’d be.
One rare morning together for the three of us at my Florida house, where we’ve retreated to spend Thanksgiving together, it strikes me that wearea family.
Chris pulls me into his arms. “Uh-oh. We lost him for a moment.”
Shae laughs as she hugs me from behind. “No campaignbrain this morning, Sir. You promised me a day off.”
They’re both good at pegging when I get distracted by a tangent and mentally squirrel on them when I should be focused on relaxing and enjoyingthem. “Sorry.” I close my eyes and inhale Chris’ scent. I relish this time together with him, able to literally set aside all my burdens as campaign manager, and Sir, and just enjoy beingboyfor awhile.
Chris turns me in his arms and holds me so I can in turn hold Shae. “You want to give it to him now?” Chris asks her.
“Give me what?”
She looks…happily excited, almost childlike. In this way, too, she can let go and just be girl. “Can we?”
“Can you what?” I ask. “What’s going on?”
Chris nuzzles my ear. “It’s a surprise. Go get it, girl.”
She pulls loose from my embrace and runs outof the kitchen.
“What’d you do?” I ask.
He kisses me. “You’ll see. The girl asked me if we could do this.”
She hurries back with something in her hands, but won’t show me what it is. Today it’s a little chilly, so I’m in sweatpants, as is Chris, but we’re both shirtless. Shae’s in my bathrobe, which is big on her but looks adorable.
She drops to her knees in front of me and nuzzles my righthand. “Sir and I have a request,” she says.
I look back to him. He cups my cheek, feathering his lips over mine. “I’m putting in my retirement papers April thirtieth.”
His birthday is on the twenty-fourth.
I swallow hard, because I know what that means—we shift to the public PR operation of painting Chris as her fiancé and then they get married.
